


play stupid games, win stupid prizes

by panoramic (worrylesswritemore)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ben Solo Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Canon Universe, Commander Rey, F/M, Friends to Lovers, He becomes an officer in the resistance, Mutual Pining, universe and plot circumstances are the same
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22070824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worrylesswritemore/pseuds/panoramic
Summary: “You’re not going. It’s too dangerous,” he says, like she’s just some little kid he’s babysitting and not the best fighter they have out there.Rey scoffs, “So some pilots are more expendable than others, is that it?”“No others,” he says under his breath, like a confession. “Just you.”:: - ::Commander Rey is a resistance pilot and Colonel Ben Solo plays favorites.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 15
Kudos: 93





	play stupid games, win stupid prizes

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a one-shot but the idea (see: word count) got away from me, so now it's part one of two! The second part will be posted in a couple of days.
> 
> AU Notes : this is set in the Star Wars Sequel Trilogy universe. The Resistance is still fighting the First Order. However, Ben never turned to the dark side and joined his family in the fight instead. Rey was discovered on Jakku but she was just recruited as a pilot, along with Finn. The Jedi are myth (or at least, that's what they are considered to be right now...).

Ben Solo looks at her like he _desperately_ needs a reason not to rip her head off with his bare teeth. Rey’s not the greatest at talking down megalomaniacs with a superiority complex, but considering her neck is literally on the line here, she has to say _something_.

So she offers him a crooked smile, hoping to come across as charming, “Hey, it worked.”

Wrong answer. Prepare for immediate detachment of ligaments from bone.

“You disobeyed _direct_ orders to disengage,” Solo says tightly, as if she needs a reminder. “You were carrying a droid with a map to Skywalker, and instead of following the pre-planned protocols of withdraw, you led your team _right back_ to the enemy.”

It’s not that simple. If it was, then that makes Rey sound completely reckless and insane—and she’ll only admit to possessing _one_ of those traits.

“How many chances do we get at a dreadnought like that?” she demands. “It was weak on power. The shields were down. We had them surrounded.”

“It was a _trap_.”

“Yeah, and I outsmarted it and trapped _them_ instead.” Rey can’t knock the smile off her face, so Solo tries to do it for her.

“Those weren’t my orders, Commander.” _Of course_ he would find a way to be mad about their victory. Stars forbid Colonel Solo be impressed with _anything_ Rey does.

“Well, maybe my judgement was better than yours.” The retort had been reserved for thought, not word. Rey doesn’t fully register she’s said it aloud until she sees Solo’s face ignite, like lightning before a storm.

“You don’t get to put innocent lives at risk because you’re so desperate to prove yourself.” And that’s so _rich_ , coming from him, that she can’t hold her tongue.

“The battle of Crait,” she says darkly and almost flinches when he does. “Pot, kettle.” It’s a low blow, and she regrets it as soon as she says it. She opens her mouth to apologize, but Colonel Solo strikes her down with a cold stare.

“You’re demoted.”

The air leaves her lungs, so she has to gasp, “ _Excuse_ _me?”_

But he’s already turned away, his massive frame creating a barrier between them. Rey hadn’t realized they’d been standing so close to one another until she gets a whiff of aftershave at his movement. _Pine-y. Good choice._

The colonel points at Poe, who’s still getting patched up with a med-pack from Rey’s sort-of-successful plan.

“ _You_ ,” Ben says. “Deal with the scavenger—before I do.” Coming from Solo, the _scavenger_ nickname can either be spoken with wry affection or venomous disdain. In this instance, it’s certainly the latter. 

When Ben leaves, it’s a dramatic exit, cape flap and all. Rey catches herself still glowering at the empty space long after he’s gone. 

“He’s not wrong, you know,” Poe tells her, causing Rey’s ire to be funneled to a new target. “We’re lucky no one got killed.”

Self-doubt creeps up in her mind. Rey tries to drown it out with a scoff, “Since when do you take up for him?” 

“Since you led an ambush on a First Order ship without clearance.”

“ _You_ were the one who suggested the plan to me in the first place.”

Poe tries to silence her, sweeping his paranoid gaze around the room, “Don’t say that too loud. The guy has big ears for a reason.”

She narrows her eyes, “Oh, so it’s teamwork when we do the plan and ‘all my idea’ when we get punished for it?”

He rolls his eyes, like she’s being intentionally daft. “Solo can’t stay mad at you. He’s _tried_ , and it always ends with you two up each other’s asses the next time you meet. Me _,_ on the other hand...”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” Rey chews her bottom lip, a nervous tick that followed her all the way from Jakku. She _just_ got promoted to commander a few weeks ago. How can Rey be the fastest pilot to reach a command position only to then lose it less than a month later? She’s breaking galaxy-held records at this point.

Rey hates how small her voice has become when she asks, “Do you think he was serious about the demotion?”

Poe shakes his head, “You’re the best fighter we got. And, as you said, the plan worked. He’ll realize that.”

Rey tries to be just as optimistic, but the chill of Solo’s stare sticks at the base of her spine for a long time.

:: - ::

Ben is not at the dining hall that evening, so she tries the training field next. When she spots the familiar figure beating the sparring dolls with tightly wound fists, Rey wonders why she didn’t visit this place first. Of course he would be here. When there’s no battle, where else is it socially acceptable to beat the shit out of something? 

Poe wasn’t wrong about Ben’s sense of hearing. Rey’s certain he hears her approaching from a mile away, but he keeps sparring, even when she’s standing a few feet away from him. The anger is still there, rippling like coils in his muscular frame. Jesus, it’s not even that humid outside. Must he not wear a shirt?

Rey bounces on her heels, a joke slotting into the place of awkward silence, “I’m surprised those dummies don’t have my face etched on them.”

“It’s called the power of visualization,” he says gruffly. He finally stops sparring, and when he looks at her, hair damp and skin glittering, her heart jumps to her throat. “What do you want, Rey?”

It’s _Commander_ in front of others (or should she say _Captain_ now?). _Rey_ has always just existed between them, like it’s some private thing they share that no one else is privy to. Ben has a way of making the strangest things feel intimate. A sideways glance of approval at training. A request for her opinion during a meeting. A feathery touch on the inside of her wrist in midst of a speedy patch-up.

She rattles the acid-beet salad in its sealed container, “Snagged you the last one before Snap got ahold of it.”

Ben has always had a peculiar relationship with food—or, really, any necessities for survival. He acts like he forgets that he’s human half the time. Like right now, he’s glancing down at the salad as if just now realizing the pang of hunger in his gut.

But Ben doesn’t take the bait. He looks back at the dummy, giving it a few hard jabs, “Anything else?”

He’s impossible to talk to when he’s like this. It’s best to just leave now and try again in a couple of days. He’ll be cooled off enough by then. But Rey is impatient; she’s never been the ‘kick the can down the road’ kind of girl. 

“I was disrespectful today,” she blurts out. If anything can get Ben’s attention, it’s the _you were right_ spiel. “I shouldn’t have said all those things—not to a superior officer and _especially_ not to a friend. I’m sorry.”

The training doesn’t stop. Ben huffs, “So you’re apologizing for the scene you made and _not_ the mess?” Another quick hit, this time at the doll’s throat. “Typical.”

Okay, Solo is going to make this a lot more difficult than it has to be. _Typical_.

“I’m not going to apologize for wiping out a murder machine. You would have done the same thing.”

“But I _wouldn’t_ have,” he refutes, finally stopping to give her a hard once over. “Because if I _would_ have, I’d have given you the order.”

While others melt at his stare, Rey stands tall, shoulders back and chin raised. Her perseverance was what made her stand out in basic training, Solo told her once. She hopes to use it to her advantage now.

“Orders are different when they mean your own risk of death or others’,” she points out. “If _you_ were up there in that starfighter and had the shot, you would have taken it.”

Ben stands there, pensive for a moment. He’s not looking at her, so it gives her a chance to look at him.

His rank isn’t just one of nepotism; he’s earned it. Years of intensive training have made his arms strong, his mind sharp, and his movements fluid. Even as a small boy, he knew his way around a battleground. He practiced under Luke Skywalker in his young adulthood, and Rey heard he was even going to enlist in the Republic Guard Academy—that is, before the war broke out. 

Rey chases the thought down a dead end. Who would they be, without the war? It’s so strange to think about _what if_ ’s. Would Ben’s life be better, living in comfort as a rising military officer and senator’s son? Would Rey’s life be worse, stuck in squalor as nothing but a Jakku scavenger?

Rey knows the painful truth, and it strengthens the pit of self-hatred in her stomach. The war was the best thing to ever happen to her.

She watches that well-practiced body stalk over to the weapons rack and throw a wooden saber at her feet. She glances down at it, confused.

“Pick it up.” It’s not a suggestion. 

“What for?” 

He braces a similar saber in his hand and backs away, preparing his footing into a fighting stance. “You think you’re big enough to be giving orders around here,” he’s mocking her, sure, but there’s a glimmer of a challenge underneath his armor of coarseness. “Prove it.”

Rey hasn’t sparred with him since basic training, when he would knock her to the dust before she could even steady her footing. It’s been months since then, and though Rey _has_ learned a lot, it’s definitely not enough to go against _The_ Ben Solo.

_“You think he has superpowers?” Finn had asked her once, catching her eye on their instructor sparring with a student across the courtyard._

_“Yeah, such a level of jackass is pretty extraordinary,” she replies sardonically, but curiosity at his level of questioning soon got the better of her. “What makes you say that, anyway?”_

_“Rumors,” he shrugged. “He can hit you without even touching you, Rose said. I heard he can even control your mind sometimes.”_

_Rey thought about the legends of his uncle but chased it away soon after. It was a desert fairytale to help lonely girls fall asleep on cold nights. Jedi weren’t_ real _. If they were, why would the Resistance need people like her?_

“If it will make you stop pouting,” Rey says under her breath and picks up the saber. The weight of the weapon doesn’t strain her wrist like it used to. Now, it makes her feel powerful, like she can slay giants.

_Speaking of giants..._ A titan stands before her, and as soon as she’s prepared, he runs at her. He goes for an obvious jab at her middle section, and it’s blocked effortlessly. The following one at her feet is less easy to defend herself. The disruption makes her footing unsteady, long enough for him to swing right at her head.

Rey raises the saber just in time to block the head shot and strikes him in the ribs with a high kick. The surprise move makes him stumble back, out and away from her orbit. She’s always been better at hand-to-hand combat, and he should know better than to get too close.

“Good,” he mutters, and it makes a ghost of a smile tug at Rey’s lips.

This time, Rey goes on the offensive. She storms ahead and tries to land a flurry of attacks, knowing her agility is one of her only advantages over him. Blocked. Blocked. Blocked. _Landed_.

She already sees discoloration blooming around the spot on his ribs. That will definitely hurt by morning.

He forces harsh air out of his nostrils, frustrated and hungry for victory. He was being cocky before. Trying to show off. Now it seems that he’s ready to take her seriously.

He thrusts the saber at her, missing a jab at her hips but landing the one on her wrist. It makes her cry out, the pain ringing like church bells in her hand. But it doesn’t make her grasp loosening on her saber. 

He gets closer and tries again to eliminate her grip. He lands a hit at her ribs, just around the same place she hit him. _Bruise buddies,_ she thinks and makes a mental note to tease him about it later in front of everyone.

Eventually, their sabers collide, pinning them into a battle of strength. This isn’t good for Rey; he’s backed her into a corner. In a battle of strength, a six-foot tall warrior beats a 5’5” scavenger. She needs to think of something fast or this fight is already lost. 

Rey lets go of her saber, long enough to break the hold of Ben to let it sail through the air. She catches it before it reaches the ground. Now free, she slams the staff against his body. But as he tumbles to the ground, he pulls at her garb, sending her sailing down right with him.

She doesn’t know how he manages it, but _she_ ends up being the one with her back flat against the cold earth. Ben anchors himself on his knees between her hips and uses his saber to pin her hands above her head. The move makes it so that her face is only a few inches from his.

The entanglement is awkward, their fronts being almost completely flushed together. Rey notices it right away. However, the proximity doesn’t seem to register to Solo; or if it does, he ignores it, keeping her pinned to the dirt until she has to say _uncle_ or something. 

“You cheated,” she accuses. She’s out of breath but not so much that she still can’t be a sore loser.

Ben scoffs, but there’s no venom to it, “How?”

“You’re too big,” She tries to squirm underneath his weight, but he doesn’t budge. “Weight class difference. It isn’t fair.”

“If the fight isn’t fair,” Ben advises. “Do something to make it. Play up your strengths. Find their blind spots.”

“What’s your blind spot?” Rey asks. She’s so close, she can see every movement, however slight, on Ben’s face. She watches carefully as her question makes his jaw tighten, how there’s the slight aversion in his gaze from hers. 

She loses the weight of another at that moment, and Ben is now standing over her when he answers, “Find out for yourself.”

He offers a hand to her, and she takes it. While he walks over to collect his shirt, she busies herself by brushing at the dirt on her behind and tightening her garbs that have loosened at the roughhousing. When she dares a glance at him, the wide expanse of skin have been cloaked by a dark knit-sweater. 

“So,” she rattles the salad container at him, cajoling, “We all good again?” Ben snatches the container from her hand as he walks past her. The ease of tension between them makes Rey almost hopeful.

“Goodnight,” Ben calls behind him as he walks back to the camp, getting far enough from her to tack on, “ _Captain_.” It’s not a slap to the face, but it sure as hell feels like one.

“Asshole,” she grumbles but finds there’s no one listening save for the training dummies. _The power of visualization,_ he’d told her. Rey imagines Ben Solo’s pretty little head and knocks the doll to the ground with a swift kick to the face.

:: - ::

Finn returns from his mission on a ship in flames.

It takes four technicians and twelve gallons of water to put everything out, and even then, molten metal is still smouldering in the landing hangar. Finn leans on Rey, soot-covered and breathing hard. He looks at the ship and winces.

“We can buff all that out, right?” he asks her. Rey is about to lie to him but Rose emerges from the smoke, choking on the toxic air.

“Are you kidding?” she exclaims. “This thing is _gutted_.”

Finn glances between the two girls, meekly replying, “Would you believe me when I said the mission was actually successful?”

It’s only when she notices Chewbacca’s reaction that she remembers the smouldering husk isn’t just _any_ ship. Finn grimaces when the realization flits across Rey’s face. 

“Who’s going to tell the Colonel?” Rose voices everyone’s thought.

All eyes fall on Rey. _Of course._

She very nearly stomps her foot in defiance, “Why does it _always_ have to be me?”

Rose shrugs, “You’re his favorite.”

She blanches at the thought. If anything, he screams at her _more_ than the other pilots.

“Rey,” and it’s _Finn_ that asks her, and she would do anything for that man—even if it means signing her own death wish.

:: - ::

“I’m going to kill him,” Ben is already moving outside of his quarters, making Rey chase after him down the hall.

“Ben, I can fix it.”

“Who approved of the mission?” Ben demands, and then he remembers, giving her a deep scowl. “Oh yeah. It was _you_.” 

“I can fix it,” she repeats, pulling at his shoulder. He shakes her off and continues storming away. Rey follows him.

She doesn’t realize he’d led her into the General’s chambers until the door closes behind her. Leia is at her desk, pouring over war plans and letters from allies. She glances up from her work, and though her gaze is kind, Rey wishes the ground would swallow her whole. She’s not supposed to be here. Her son can barge in to her room and disrupt her focus all he wants, but _Rey_? She’s an insignificant soldier, one of dozens. She should leave now, but Leia’s impenetrable gaze glues her feet to the concrete.

“Have you heard?” Ben demands.

“That the Falcon returned a little beat up?” Leia says. “Yes, I know.”

“A _little_ beat up?” he exclaims. “It’s basically _wreckage_.”

“I can fix it,” Rey’s voice is small, just as it always is in front of the General.

Ben casts a dismissive wave in her direction, “You couldn’t even repair a droid’s sanitation unit.”

“That was a droid,” she points out tersely. “This is a ship. I know ships, _especially_ the Falcon.”

His mouth twists into something crude, “I almost forgot you were one of Dad’s fangirls.”

It still stings—the ease of cruelty in which he can talk about his late father. It must hurt Leia too because she says tightly, “ _Ben._ ”

The sour expression drops from his face. The reprimand makes him shift smaller into himself, like an embarrassed child. A pang of sympathy strikes Rey’s heart, and her hand comes up to the crook of his elbow before she can think better of it. 

“So you don’t care that his ship is gone.” Ben’s voice is accusatory, _hurt_. 

“It’s not gone,” Leia glances over at her. “Rey just said she’s going to fix it.” _She knows my name._ Rey breaks out into a smile and tries to hide it by staring at the ground. Ben scoffs. When he can’t be mad at the General, he turns the heat of his glare to Rey.

“Your duties for today are still withstanding,” he says. “If you want to be a scavenger, do it on your own time.”

For once, _Rey_ would like to be the one to leave. Colonel Solo denies her the opportunity yet again. He storms out of the room, an angry cloud following above him.

“That boy’s got too much of his father in him,” Leia mutters. She looks at Rey, adding, “Don’t be afraid to knock him around a couple times when he talks to you like that.”

Rey’s hand twitches at her side, “My pleasure, General.”

:: - ::

That night, when Jessika relieves her for the night shift, Rey goes to the temporary storage hangar. She’s holding the handle of the lantern by her teeth as she messes around with the Falcon’s dead wiring. Rose was right. This thing is gutted.

The Falcon’s door collapses open upon outside request. Rey expects it to be Finn, which is why she calls out, “You bastard. How did you even mess it up this bad?”

“I didn’t,” Ben replies behind her, causing Rey to stiffen in her seat. “That shining honor belongs to your brave little stormtrooper.”

“If you’re going to be a dick, just leave,” she snaps, trying to focus back on the task at hand. Strained silence follows, only disrupted by the high-pitched squeak from the seat beside her as Ben sits down.

“So,” his voice is mild and open, like an extended olive branch. “What’s the damage, scavenger?”

Rey shrugs, placing more confidence in her voice than what she feels in her chest, “I’ve crafted better from worse.”

He nods. Rey had thought the quiet had been nice when she was alone. Now, with another body filling the space, it’s distracting.

“Is that all?” she asks, clipped. “You just needed a status update?”

Her tone throws him, and when he speaks again, it’s with indignation, “I want to help.”

“Really?” She scoffs. “Doesn’t this job seem beneath your rank, _Sir_?”

“If I’m only going to distract you, I can leave.” She places a hand on his shoulder, preventing him from standing to his feet. He’s trying to make up for being an asshole today, and Rey will let him—this time, at least. If he acts that way again, however, she’s sure to give him the earful he deserves.

Rey glances around at the mechanics. What can someone with little technician training do to help? Tinker with the airlock stream? Rewire the rectenna? She looks down at the lantern.

“Here,” she thrusts the light in his hands. “You can help me by shining it down on this little box over here.”

Ben’s glare is withering.

“It’s the most important job,” she assures him. She thinks that he will refuse her, all that inflated self-importance and pride considering, but he takes the lantern with reluctant acceptance. He shines it blindly in the wiring box.

Rey hesitates before correcting, “A little to the left,” He shifts. “Too much. A little to the right.” He shifts again, the grip on the light tightening. She gives him her best smile of affirmation, usually reserved for children. “Perfect.” With the weight of the lantern no longer numbing her jaws, Rey can work quicker. 

“How do you know how to do all of this?” Ben asks her. 

She shrugs, “Not much else to do on Jakku except tinker with husks of metal sunken in the sands.” A memory comes to her, a _good_ one this time. Rey smiles.

Ben offers an inquisitive glance, “What?”

Rey is about to refuse and dismiss, _oh it’s nothing_ , but something stops her. She wants to tell the story, even if it is stupid and only special to her.

“When I was little, I didn’t know how to measure day cycles on Jakku. I’d only just gotten there,” she begins. “I would walk for hours on the dunes, looking for salvageable parts, but I was always supposed to find my way back before nightfall. Once, I got sidetracked and had to duck into an old freight vessel for the night. It took me ages to find an opening to that thing; even when I did, I was barely small enough to squeeze inside. It had been abandoned for...I don’t know. Decades, maybe. But it was so _clean_ on the inside, completely untouched by any other scavenger. It looked like a real ship, not a rusted shell like all the others.”

Rey gets lost in the memory, forgetting the quiet man listening patiently beside her. “And I thought I could get it to fly. I devoured every maintenance manual in the storage units. I found some tape and rewired the whole system— _twice_. Nothing worked. It looked so hopeless. 

“But _finally_ , after months of work, the engine turned over. It was a _miracle_ .” she shakes her head, correcting herself. “Even better than a miracle. _I_ made it happen. I was the one who fixed it.” 

It was a turning point in her life. It was when she realized that she was going to be okay on her own—however long that was going to be.

“Why didn’t you leave on the ship?” Ben asks, breaking her from her reverie. 

“I didn’t want to.”

“You wanted to stay on Jakku?” He regards her with suspicion. “ _No one_ wants to stay there.”

She looks away and shrugs, embarrassed, “I thought they would come back for me.” Maybe she still does. Is that why she still visits, even now? To search through a crowd for phantoms of her memory? She can’t even remember what her parents looked like. How are they even supposed to know her?

She clears her throat, “Anyway, that was a long winded explanation of how I know ships. You can learn a lot of things on your own; you just need time.” _And I had a lot of that. More than I ever knew what to do with._

“If you love working on them so much, why didn’t you sign up to be a technician for us?” Well, isn’t this just twenty-one questions with Rey tonight. The personable conversation makes her stomach turn, though not as unpleasantly as she expected. It’s not that she hates talking about herself; she just doesn’t have a lot of practice in it.

In response, she shrugs. Rey has always wanted to be a pilot. She even had an old pilot helmet on Jakku for years. She’d put it on when she was bored, pretend that the sand dunes were clouds cast over a sunset.

With a sudden bolt at her fingertips, the lights of the Falcon flicker on with a whiny groan. Just as Ben sucks in a breath of surprise, Rey releases a sigh of relief.

“Now we know the system still works,” she says, grinning. “We just got to tease the rest out.” The engine is still dead and the tech features will need to be reprogrammed, but this is a step in the right direction.

Ben’s eyes shine brightest under fluorescent lighting, Rey discovers. It makes her stomach turn again; this time, the feeling is _far_ from unpleasant.

“Thank you,” he says, quiet and awestruck. 

“What can I say?” Rey jokes, only able to brag when it’s sarcasm. “I’m good with my hands.” At the reference, Ben’s gaze drops from her eyes to her palms. One is still wrapped around the gear shift while the other is resting on her knee. 

Her hands aren’t pretty—not like those of a princess, painted and pressed. Rey’s nails are short and jagged. _A soldier’s hands,_ her mind supplies. Her fingertips are bruised and cracked after being zapped with hot electricity for hours. New calluses are forming at her knuckles, the flesh raw and pink with stress. 

Studying them intently, Ben just makes a soft noise in the back of his closed throat.

“Thank you for helping,” she gestures to the lantern still in his grasp. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Ben shakes the lantern in his fist, responding wryly, “Yes. My talent for holding a light is unmatched.” Was that a joke? Was Colonel Ben Solo trying to be _funny_? 

The thought makes Rey laugh more than his punchline, but she won’t tell him that. Her pearls of laughter seem to make Ben preen a little bit.

“First light is in a few hours,” he points out, checking his watch. “We should probably try to get some rest.” Rey nods, switching the lights off of the Falcon and following Colonel Solo outside.

In the harsh light of the hallway, Rey feels the ease of their rapport trickle away. It remains in the hangar, under the flickering lights and still air. Ben is Colonel Solo again: quick-witted, pensive, emotionless. It’s a persona that he’s crafted with precision for years, one that keeps enemies and allies alike at the edge of their seat. _You know he was recruited by Snoke,_ Jessika had whispered to the new recruits months earlier, _I think he still hears him, somewhere in his head._

For many, Colonel Solo is more myth than man. But what is he to _her_?

Rey doesn’t know the answer. Even knowing him for such a small amount of time, he has filled so many roles in her life. He was her training instructor, the hard-shelled man that smacked roughness into her skin. Then he was her superior, the gruff leader who yelled at her each time she disobeyed in favor of her own instincts. And sometimes he is her friend, sharing jokes and ribbing with sardonic tones and crooked smiles.

“I know it’s an outdated piece of space junk,” Ben says, referring to the Falcon with shoulders down and gaze lowered. “It’s worthless. I always hated it growing up. It shouldn’t even be flying anymore. I just...” He stops, his jaw working. “It still means a lot to me,” he admits curtly, looking up at her to add, “Thank you for your help.” Colonel Solo can be a lot of things, some of which are not all that great, but right now, he is her friend. 

“It’ll work again,” she reassures, knocking their shoulders together as she adds. “And when it does, you can go back to glowering at it like it’s the bane of your existence.”

Ben huffs a laugh, tucks away his smile by turning away. “Go get some sleep, Colonel,” she advises, waving a finger at his back. “That’s an order.”

She catches a yawn between her teeth and tries to shove it back with a hand over her mouth.

“You should follow your own advice,” Ben responds.

“That’s always so hard. I’m a bit of a hypocrite,” she points out. She offers a final farewell before walking down the hall, back to her own quarters. 

When she falls asleep, she dreams of dark eyes under fluorescent lights.

:: - ::

The next day, Rey and Poe are suiting up in the launch bay while Finn watches, his arms crossed.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Finn grumbles. “Just a couple of bruises. This sick leave is more like punishment.” It sounds like a conspiracy theory, but considering he nearly toasted the Falcon, Rey wouldn’t be surprised.

Poe shakes his head, incredulous, “You have _got_ to be sick. Anyone who wants to go to Nal Hutta is missing a few screws in the head.”

“Hutta has the best bone broth,” Finn points out.

“Yeah,” Rey agrees. “But you probably don’t want to know what _kind_ of bones they use for it.”

Finn grimaces, “Rey, why you gotta ruin everything?”

“It’s part of her charm,” Poe says under his breath, grinning innocently when she casts him a dark look.

“ _This_ is what I’m talking about. I need to go, just to make sure you two don’t kill each other.” She and Poe share a look of agreement; Finn’s got a point.

When Colonel Solo enters the launch bay, Rey’s gaze flickers to him, the reflex like a second nature. He stalks over to the technician hub across the room. He doesn’t act like he’s trying to command the room, but when he speaks, the bay grows quiet anyway. 

“We just received intel on Taris about the First Order’s armory whereabouts,” Ben says. “I need clearance for a snubfighter. The more unassuming, the better.”

“Taris is an industrial wasteland,” Rose says, scrolling on her screen. “You’ll need a technician to accompany you.”

“No need,” he says, his gaze finally flickering over to her. “Commander Rey is joining me.”

“I am?” Rey says, Finn and Poe echoing her confusion.

Ben waits until Rose secures him a vessel before he walks over to the trio. He tips his head to the two men in acknowledgement and then addresses Rey, “We’ll leave as soon as the ship gets loaded on the bay.” His gaze drops, giving her the once over. “Good. You’re already dressed.”

“I’m scheduled for a mission on Nal Hutta,” she informs him, in case he didn’t even bother glancing at the mission sheet for today. Rey expects Ben’s face to light up in realization at her point. _Oh sorry, I didn’t know that. I should know better than to think that your time revolves around me. Have a safe trip!_ Okay, maybe he wouldn’t say those _exact_ words but something to that effect at least.

Instead, Ben glances at Finn, “Looks like you’re going in her stead. You healed enough to go?”

Finn nods, still a little perplexed, “Yeah, totally. I’m fine.”

“Excellent. Good luck,” Ben says. He turns to leave, but Rey catches him by the arm.

“Why am _I_ going?” Rey demands, eyes narrowing. _And since when did I get re-promoted to commander?_

Ben sighs, like her confusion is exasperating, “Several reasons. Do you want me to go through them all now?”

Rey looks at him expectantly.

“You’re well-practiced in piloting. If something happens to me, you can adequately take over,” he starts to list. “You know how to look for useful parts and repair ships in a crisis. Taris is basically a junkyard, so I don’t need a polished technician. I need a scavenger.

“ _And,”_ he concludes his third point, his hard tone softening. “This is a very important mission, Rey. I need someone out there who I can trust.”

_You trust me?_ She bites back the question, realizing it would just make her sound weird and desperate. The revelation makes something drum in her veins, the blood going straight to her head. A superior officer trusts her command. The Resistance _needs_ someone like her. 

“Fine,” she says, though he doesn’t really need her approval. She has to listen to his orders, after all. “I need to bring anything special?”

“A blaster,” Ben tells her, and yeah, _duh_. She’s not stupid. His gaze flickers over her orange and white suit again, adding, “And another set of clothes. Something...nice. We need to blend in once we reach the city.”

A technician soon pulls Ben away to look at drop plans, but before he leaves, he reminds Rey of their boarding time, “Fifteen minutes.” Rey nods, though Solo doesn’t see it. He’s more focused on bigger things, the constant push and pull of command as plans fall apart and come together within minutes of launch.

“So you just got promoted,” Poe says once the colonel is out of earshot. “And now you’re going on a mission that’s _way_ high above your rank.”

It’s a statement of fact, posed as a question. Rey just nods, watching Poe roll his eyes and grimace.

“I told you so,” he mutters. “ _Favorites_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos would be really encouraging and help the update come quicker.


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